


Do You Want To?

by threeplusfire



Series: Filthy Money [2]
Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: Blow Jobs, Collars, Kink, M/M, Multi, Spanking, venture capitalist AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 19:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2519426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeplusfire/pseuds/threeplusfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The venture capitalist AU, where the main man from Sipsco Industries invites his business acquaintances from Hat Corporation out to a party. Things turn out to be very kinky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Want To?

**Author's Note:**

> Enormous thanks to Summer for helping me sort out what I was thinking with this idea in the first place and her comments on my mess of an early draft. Also many, many thanks to Trashwaystopcock for being unwaveringly enthusiastic and encouraging the entire time. This never would have been written without the anonymous request I received for some Alsipsy action a month ago. So thank you to everyone who made me write this ridiculous, delightful thing.
> 
> Also thank you to Dexanari who helped me fix the incredible lack of commas and a bunch of random typos that made me want to hide my head under a rock.

“Hey you guys want to go to a party?” asked Sips.

It sounded innocuous enough. That’s how these things always start. A harmless invitation from someone they met in the business, a guy who wasn’t exactly into real estate or property development. But they’d crossed paths enough times in various boardrooms and corporate events to sort of know each other.

They crowded into the elevator up to Sips’ place on one of the top floors of a building with a swankier address than any of them really expected. Sips was Sips. Somehow him living in a dirt hut in the middle of the park wouldn’t have surprised them as much as the towering glass and steel condo building in midtown. There was even a doorman who looked them up and down in a very suspicious way before phoning Sips to confirm that he really wanted these three ruffians allowed into the building.

“Do you think he actually lives here?”

“The doorman called him,” Ross pointed out sensibly.

“Yeah, but what do you want to bet he’s in a service closet.”

Trott admired his teeth, making absurd faces in the mirrored panels of the elevator, and hoped someone was watching the security camera footage.

There was only one door on the floor when they stepped out of the elevator into a marbled hallway. A delicate mosaic of gold and blue pieces ran along about waist high, an unusual repeating pattern of tiny squares. Ross dragged his fingers over it, and Trott pulled him along before he could start trying to pry a piece of it loose. He had an unfortunate tendency to acquire small objects, especially shiny ones.

“Hey guys, sorry about that guy out front. He’s on a real power trip lately about people coming into the building.” Sips waited for them in his doorway, and waved them into his home. Ross tilted his head to the side, trying to figure out why Sips was wearing leather pants and a leather jacket. Usually any time they encountered him it was in a slightly rumpled, just out of date suit.

“Damn,” Trott said softly as they entered the slightly surreal space.

“You are _rolling_ in Sipsco money,” Smith noted as he walked around in the open living room looking out over the cityscape. “This looks like something out of a movie.”

The sunken floor of the living room was covered with a sort of golden carpet, very bright against the dark wood floors in the rest of the common area. Enormous squared leather sofas in red and chrome were arranged at right angles and hexagonal glass tables stood at their ends. A television screen and several game consoles took up most of a wall. An incongruous giant beanbag was right up in front of the television. At the far end there was a clearly unused kitchen of gleaming chrome that looked like some showroom display. For all the oddness, and the especially peculiar choice of art more suited for the sides of vans or heavy metal album covers, it barely looked lived in. Ross wondered where exactly one acquired a six foot tall painting of dragons, staring at the picture hanging over the bar. He admired the view and sneakily reached out to confirm that there were indeed actual velvet drapes hanging at the edge of the window, red and black and gold.

“Yeah I saw this film once about this guy named Gordon Gecko,” Sips said casually. “He’s a role model. Greed is good and all that. So you guys…” He looked over the trio, made a face at their outfits. “You guys are gonna need to borrow some clothes for the party.”

“Didn’t tell us it was fancy dress mate.” Smith sat on the arm of the sofa, swinging one leg.

Trott immediately gravitated towards the bar, ignoring the row of bottles to open up the small fridge.

“Well, not exactly.” He shrugged. “Come on, I got some stuff you can wear.”

“Sips, this better not be anything weird…” Trott began. He closed the fridge reluctantly and they followed him down a hallway and into a little room. It was actually a giant walk in closet, or maybe a small bedroom turned into a closet. They crowded into the doorway behind him.

“Sips why the fuck do you have a closet this big? And a fucking sofa in here?”

“I like to sit down when I put my shoes on okay.” He walked over, past a row of ordinary every day clothes to the back wall. “So, there’s a lot of stuff here. I dunno, pick out whatever you’d like to wear. Hmm.” He started pawing through a rack of black clothes.

“Is that?” Ross stared at an open drawer with a lot of things inside that were definitely not clothes. Maybe only in the loosest definition of the word clothing. They were things you could put on your body. Or in, he supposed.

“Sips,” Trott said in a suspicious voice. “This is all fetish gear.”

“Yeah.”

“Why are we putting on fetish gear?”

“Cause we’re going to a fancy party in a very exclusive fetish club? Duh.” He shook his head as if Trott was a particularly slow pupil.

“No fucking way,” Ross said, crossing his arms. Smith laughed.

“Are these - they are. Look Ross, nipple clamps!” Smith giggled and started trying to attach them to Ross, who yelped and backed away.

“Smith! Stop it, christ Trott help me here!”

Ignoring their racket, Trott wandered the length of the closet.

Ross flinched as Smith snagged a crease in his shirt.

“For fuck’s sake-” This time Smith clipped him right through the fabric and Ross yelped again, slapping the auburn haired man’s hand.

“Smiffy, you’re doing that all wrong,” Sips interrupted. “Give those here. I’ll show you how.” He caught Ross by the wrist and reached out to unbutton the dark haired man’s shirt.

“Whoa why are you demonstrating on me?”

“Cause you’re right here, now hold still Ross.”

“Wait-”

“Wow, you’re pretty hairy Ross, I was not expecting that.”

“Yeah Ross,” Smith grinned at the look Ross gave him. Sips had already finished unbuttoning his shirt.

“So, you open them like this,” he said, squeezing the little rubber tipped clamps open. With his other hand, he rubbed a thumb over Ross’ nipple and pinched it gently before slipping the clamp on. Ross squeaked, a high startled noise. Smith was just staring, lips slightly parted and a very strange expression on his face. Ross backed up into the wall and Sips attached the other clamp, as calm as if he was just putting away the dishes.

“See you can just pull a person around like this now.” Sips tugged experimentally on the chain connecting the clamps, causing Ross to swear.

“Huh,” was all Smith said. Ross’ eyes were very wide.

“But you probably don’t want to wear these to the party, it’s just going to make people want to tug on it all night.” Sips released the clamps and Ross clapped his hands to his chest with a fresh glare at Smith.

“But..”

“You can put them back on later Smiffy,” Sips shushed him.

“Trott, you should wear this.”

“Why do I have to be the girl?” Trott groaned. He held up the black PVC tank dress.

“Wearing a dress doesn’t make you a girl. I’d put it on Ross, honestly, but his shoulders are too big for it.” Sips shrugged. “You’ll look good, come on.”

Trott wrinkled his nose, frowning. He pulled his shirt over his head  and tugged the dress over his head. It wasn’t quite as tight as he was expecting, but it dragged on his skin as he pulled it down. He unzipped his jeans and let them fall.

“Well you definitely can’t wear your boxers under that,” Sips noted. It was pretty short, coming barely to mid thigh on him. The older man turned around to rummage through some drawers. Trott fiddled with the wide tank straps, smoothing them out and looking at himself in the mirror.

“Here.” Sips handed him some very shiny, very red panties.

“You are fucking joking.”

“They’re very comfortable. I have some like that.”

“Why exactly do you have all this?” Trott asked quite seriously as he considered the underwear.

“What, a grown man can’t enjoy playing dress up with his friends?”

Trott laughed, aware of how completely ludicrous the entire situation was. In the mirror he could see Ross holding up a pair of leather pants. Smith was watching him with barely restrained glee.

“I can’t believe you’re making me wear a dress Sips. You’re such an asshole.”

“Aww, don’t be like that.” He put his hands on Trott’s bare arms. “It’s going to be fun, I promise.”

“This had better be worth it.”

“Don’t you worry there.” The gleam in Sips’ expression promised mayhem.

The delicate material of the red panties felt so insubstantial Trott wondered if they would even stay on his hips, much less hold him in place. He almost jumped on the spot just to see. But Sips was watching him still.

“Aren’t you the pretty one?” Sips said admiringly as Trott looked over his shoulder into the mirror. “Damn Trott.”

“I am the pretty one,” he agreed, a bit absently. He bared his teeth in the mirror, amused.

 

“These are really tight.”

“Pretty sure they’re supposed to be like that.”

“Just skip the underpants,” Sips said, appearing beside them. Ross was halfway through pulling his trousers off one leg and nearly toppled over. Sips steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, the heat of him burning through his dress shirt. Ross met his gaze and swallowed, feeling a bit like a small animal caught in the glare of headlights. His tie still hung loosely around his neck.

“Smith,” Sips said, not breaking eye contact with Ross. “Find something to wear already, we have to get going soon.”

“Fine,” the taller man huffed as he turned around to rifle through the enormous amount of clothing in the closet. Meanwhile Sips reached forward and tugged Ross’ boxer briefs down off his hips. Ross made a little inarticulate sound.

Smith was about to go looking for Trott when Sips handed him a shirt.

“No,” Smith said, trying to hand it back.

“Yes,” Sips said firmly.

“No.”

“Look, why you gotta be a spoilsport here Smiffy?” Sips gave him a level stare and then cut his gaze sideways to the other two men. Startled, Smith opened his mouth without thinking.

“Holy fucking hell,” he said a bit too loudly, catching Trott’s attention. His friend made a face at him.

“I swear to god Smith, you call me a girl and…”

“You look ridiculously hot like that,” Smith blurted out, feeling his face burn as the words tumbled out. Trott paused, then smiled his Cheshire cat grin.

“Oh, did you hear that Ross?”

“I did.” The dark haired man licked his lips and tried not to laugh at the flustered expression on Smith’s face.

Trott smoothed his hands down the skirt of the dress, and stepped into the heels he found in the enormous pile of shoes. He rocked back and forth experimentally, testing his balance. He couldn’t run in these, but he could probably walk. They weren’t too tall.

Smith was still staring and Sips patted him gently on the cheek.

“Earth to Smith. Get your shirt on.”

“What?”

Smith made a little sound of distaste as he pulled off his shirt. It was warm in this excessive, crowded room. The mesh fabric did not make him feel any cooler when he pulled it over his head, and it stretched wider over his skin. He wanted to rip it right back off.

“Damn it you can see my nipples right through this thing.” He tugged at the fabric, trying to bunch it together to somehow render it more opaque.

“Why do you even have nipples?” Trott wondered, a bit curious and a bit mean at the same time. Smith gave him a dirty look over his shoulder as he twisted around.

“We could tape some little Xs over them if you’re that worried about it,” Sips said.

“Seriously?”

“Why not?”

“No, just no.”

“Here, put this on over it.” Sips handed him something leather, all buckles and straps. Smith made a baffled face until Sips sighed and took it back.

“Alright you baby, how do you not even know how to dress yourself?” he muttered under his breath. His hands smoothed down the ripples in Smith’s shirt, warm on his skin and Smith relaxed into the touch. The wide leather straps were almost comforting as Sips fastened them over his shoulders and across his chest. He tightened the buckles and tugged experimentally, pulling Smith off balance. He stumbled into Sips’ chest, one hand up to catch himself.

“Jeeze Smiffy, stay with me here.” He smiled though, tugging more gently the second time around to be sure the straps weren’t sliding anywhere.

Smith looked a bit more pleased with it on, preening a bit under Sips’ attention.

“Alright, these too Smiffy.” He pushed a pair of shorts at the taller man. Smith dropped his hand from Sips’ chest with a frown.

“What the hell are these?”

“They’re shorts.”

“They’re very shiny,” Ross observed.

“And very short,” Trott noted, a slightly malicious smile on his face.

“Really?” he signed at Sips.

“Put ‘em on already,” he said. “We’re going to miss the show if you dick around in here all night.”

“What the fuck am I wearing under these?”

“Here.” He tossed the smallest pair of black briefs Smith had ever seen at him.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Well it’s that or nothing Smiffy, take your pick.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “Are you going to stare the whole time?”

“I had no idea you were so shy, Smiffy,” Sips chuckled. He turned his attentions to Ross, still shirtless and barefoot. Smith’s expression was disgruntled as he dropped his jeans, trying not to watch the way Sips tugged a smiling Ross over to a rack of shirts. He looked at the briefs in his hand, and then yanked off his boxers as quickly as he could. He certainly wasn’t going to stand there wiggling into the tight undergarment while everyone watched. They were definitely too small, barely even covering his junk and riding low on his hips. Smith pulled up the shorts.

His thighs felt uncomfortably exposed. Sips smirked at him.

“Shit, Smith that looks good on you. You want some heels with those? I don’t know if I’ve got any big enough for your feet though…” Sips considered a rack of shoes and boots.

“He doesn’t need to be any taller,” Ross said. His black shirt was sleeveless, and tight enough to make it clear Ross was the only one of them who went to the gym on a regular basis. He shrugged an awkward little smile and bumped his shoulder against Smith.

“Now, we just need…” Sips ducked into a cabinet. Meanwhile, Smith and Ross searched for boots that fit. Trott gingerly perched on the arm on the sofa, trying to figure out how to sit so he wouldn’t flash the entire room.

“Alright, you guys need these.” The buckles clanked as he lifted a handful of collars. He considered a few red ones, putting most of them down again. He lifted another handful, blue, black and green leather. Sips scrunched his nose up as he stacked collars in his hand, the rings and metal pieces clattering. Trott craned his neck, trying to see everything in the cabinet drawer.

“Why, exactly?”

“It just lets them know you’re with me. No one will bother you that way.” He looked thoughtfully at Trott who just smiled and shrugged. Ross wondered what the hell that was all about. It made him slightly nervous to think the two of them had already reached some understanding.

“What exactly do you mean by bother?” Ross asked dubiously. “Nevermind, don’t answer that.” Sips smiled at him, sorting the leather bands by color in his hand.

“Plus, you get to put your drinks on my tab, if you’re wearing these.” Sips held up a collar. A small tag stamped with his initials. It bore more than a passing resemblance to his business logo. Ross perked up at that, and Smith nudged him in the ribs.

“This somewhere you hang out a lot, Sips?”

“Time to time.” The older man shrugged. “They know me there. It’s a classy joint.”

“Really?” Smith asked sarcastically. “Can’t be if you’re there.”

The collar Sips fastened around Trott’s neck was a shiny red with slender dangling chains set all around. It practically jingled with his movements. Ross’ was a dark blue, wider and set with a single O ring at the front. His fingers came up to trace the ring, feeling out how it sat in the leather and which ways it would move.

Smith backed up a half step as Sips came towards him, a black leather collar in one hand.

“Come on, nothing to be scared of,” Sips said soothingly.

“Is it really a good idea for us to let you do this?”

“Trust me, Smith.” He held up the collar and raised his eyebrows.

“I really don’t trust you.”

“Aww, that’s mean Smiffy.”

“Who was it who screwed us over last week, huh?”

“That was totally not my fault. I had no idea you guys were going to be there. No one told me anyone else made a bid on that project.”

“Come on Smith,” Trott hissed. “If I’m doing this, you’re doing this.” Their eyes met, a few heartbeats of silence between them. Ross was still turning the ring over and over, and trying to see the back of his neck in a mirror.

“Fine,” Smith said shortly. Trott and Ross watched him lean slightly forward as Sips slid the leather around his throat. Silver studs gleamed along the band alternating with D rings. Sips ran a finger around Smith’s neck as he pulled away, feeling the faint slick of sweat.

“Happy now?” he growled, shaking his head. “I look ridiculous.”

“Nah, you look great. Let’s go.”

“Sips,” Trott interrupted. “Where the fuck am I supposed to put my wallet in this?”

“You don’t need it.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah, you’re not even supposed to take your phone in there anyways. House rules or something.” Sips made a face. “There was a thing, with this guy, and he took some pictures and anyways it was a big mess.”

“Won’t we need ID wherever we’re going?”

“Yeah, just give those to me.”

Trott gave him a long measuring look before picking up his wallet and gesturing for the others to do the same. While Sips teased Smith again, he caught Ross by the elbow.

“Take the cash out of your wallet and shove it in a pocket just in case,” he murmured.

* * *

  
The woman at the door took Sips’ card and glanced at the four of them briefly.

“Lot of guests tonight,” she commented as she handed it back. Her impossibly thin eyebrows were perfect arches.

“You know how I roll, sweetheart.” Sips shrugged and put an arm around Smith’s waist.

“Have fun.” She gestured as the bouncer opened the door for them.

Sips tugged them into the darkness lit with flashes of colored light, a pounding bass beat rising to meet them. Inside it looked quite a lot like any other club. Except for the fact it seemed much nicer and the people were wearing much more elaborate clothes. It also didn’t have that sticky feeling to the floor, unlike the place they sometimes went on Friday nights.

“Nice,” was all Sips said as he surveyed his spot. A low table sat in the center of the curved booth with a RESERVED placard in the center. Sips seated himself with Smith on one side and Trott on the other, arms spread across the back of the slick booth cushion and a pleased expression on his face.

“This is something,” Trott said in a deeply amused voice. He crossed his legs, trying to keep the dress from riding all the way up his thighs as he did. Ross couldn’t help but stare as he perched on the edge of the seat next to Trott.

“Ross, you perv.”

“What? No, sorry.” He flushed and squeezed his eyes shut.

“He’s supposed to look, Trott, that’s half the point of you wearing that.”

“How come Trott gets to be pretty? I look ridiculous.” Smith grumbled.

“You look very nice, Smith.” Sips put his arm around Smith’s shoulders, pulling him close. His fingers tugged on the leather harness straps and there was a considering look in his eyes.

Their table had a clear view over the heads of the dance floor crowd to the stage.

“Fuck it, where’s the bar?” Trott stood up and swiveled.

“Go with him, Ross,” Sips instructed.

The dark haired man raised his eyebrows but didn’t protest, following Trott down the steps from the VIP area towards the crowded bar. Everywhere he looked, the outfits were more outrageous than anything they were wearing and that made him feel a little better. The leather was ridiculously tight though.

“What is it Smiffy, cat got your tongue?”

“What?” He looked at Sips, his expression distracted. “This place is something, christ Sips. Is this what you do in your spare time?”

“Sometimes,” the older man shrugged.

“Should have pegged you for a kinky bastard.”

“Yeah, you’re really falling down with your observational skills there.”

“Why did you bring us here?”

“I think you know why.”

“Oh, I have a lot of ideas why,” Smith grinned. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you want me to say, Smiffy?” His hand wandered the lines of Smith’s shoulder and back, following the edge of the harness.

“You know what.”

“But I want you to tell me.”

“Stop turning this around on me,” Smith laughed.

“But I like hearing you talk Smiffy, especially when you talk dirty.” Sips’ gaze was laser like in its focus, pinning Smith to the spot. He didn’t even protest when Sips’ hand moved lower down his back.

“You’re-” His voice cut off when Sips’ hand slipped under him to squeeze the curve of his ass. “Oh, is that why we’re here?” The flush in his cheeks brightened. Wide eyed and grinning, he leaned back on Sips’ hand.

“You know exactly why you’re here,” Sips said quietly in Smith’s ear. “That’s why you came.”

“You dirty fuck,” Smith laughed again.

“Hey, I shower regularly after work.”

Ross and Trott stumbled back up the steps, carrying glasses of booze.

“We have drinks!” Ross crowed, a slightly manic grin on his face.

“I hope that’s a margarita you’ve got there.” Sips plucked a glass from his chilled fingers. Trott set the remaining glasses on the table, bending too far forward so the dress rode up high on the backs of his thighs. He wobbled just a little on his heels.

“Probably?” Ross looked from glass to glass. The alcohol was helping. “Hopefully.”

“C’mere Trott.” Sips snapped his fingers and the other man stumbled forward with a laugh. He let Sips pull him down so he was sitting across Sips’ legs. Trott wriggled himself into a more comfortable position, letting his bare legs rest on either side of Sips’ knees.

Ross sank down on his other side and downed half his drink at once. The warm leather of Sips’ jacket pressed against Ross’ bare arm as he settled closer.

“What are they doing?” Smith craned his neck. There was movement on the stage, still dimly illuminated. They had a good view from their table over the heads of the dance floor crowd.

“Show’s about to start pretty boy, you’ll see.”

“What did you call me?”

Trott started laughing again. The lights flickered and dimmed as the stage lit up, music shifting away from dance floor standard to something slower and much quieter. An incredibly tall woman stalked forward, glimmering in her acid green corset and thigh high stockings. Her hair was pulled back in a fancy braid, something sparkly woven through it. A much shorter woman dressed in elaborate red leather followed followed, looking as if she’d stepped right out of a Japanese RPG instruction manual in some sort of fantasy armor. Even the boots were red. They both wore plain black domino masks.

The dominatrices pulled a man forward, gagged and wearing only black trousers. The taller woman fastened the cuffs on his wrists to a bar overhead, forcing him to stretch up. The woman in red stroked his head, leaning in close. Behind them, the taller dominatrix choose a crop from the tools held by a pretty girl in a filmy white dress that barely covered her curves. She strutted back, swinging it almost carelessly in one hand as she circled the man in the center of the stage.

The sound of the first strike was loud. Smith startled, and Sips patted him reassuringly. The gagged man quivered with each blow, rocking forward onto his toes each time. Soon the woman in red removed his trousers and they spun him round to flaunt the sharp red lines rising across the backs of his thighs as the beating intensified.

Sips looked sideways to see Ross with his lips slightly parted, fixated on the events happening on the stage. Sips tilted his head to whisper in Trott’s ear. When Sips sat back, Trott slid off his lap and directly into Ross’ instead. The dark haired man startled and almost dropped his glass. Trott shook the fringe out of his eyes and grinned. He put an arm around Ross’ shoulders and shifted so he could watch the show. He glanced back to see Ross still looking at him. Trott lifted one of Ross’ hands and put it on his knee, raising his eyebrows. Sips watched, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. He turned his attention back to Smith, tugging at the rings on his collar enough to make the other man growl and flash him a glare.

“Don’t be like that,” he said, voice mild.

“Mnot like anything,” Smith shot back.

“You are definitely something. Something I’m looking forward to playing with.” Smith smirked at him, even as Sips dragged his head back slowly.

Up on the stage, a girl wearing only a sequined bra and panties stretched out on her side across a platform with her back to the audience. The woman in red unrolled something beside her as the other unhooked the girl’s bra.

“Is that…” Ross’ voice trailed off uncertainly.

“Yep,” Trott nodded.

“Fuck.” Smith shivered.

Sips didn’t say anything, sipping at the less than stellar margarita as he watched the dominatrices on stage slowly pierce the girl’s back with lines of needles.

“They do this a lot,” he said finally, startling the other men from their breathless observation. “How many times can you watch someone do this corset lacing needle trick?”

“You sounded pretty jaded.” Trott laughed, a little surprised.

“Well, you know. You see it a couple times, it gets old. Maybe if they did some kind of Christmas tree pattern or something.” The older man shrugged.

“You could hang ornaments on that then.”

“No thank you,” Ross said under his breath.

Sips handed his glass to Smith.

“Go get me a better margarita.”

“Me?”

“Yeah Smiffy, you’re my bitch tonight so get going.”

The incredulous expression Smith wore as Sips shoved him to his feet was priceless. Trott grinned and Ross smothered his laughter in the back of Trott’s shoulder. Bare skin and slick plasticky fabric pressed against his face. Trott felt warm breath down the back of his dress.

“Fuck you, Sips,” Smith spat, ruining the effect with the obvious excitement in his voice.

“Later, Smiffy, later.” He watched Smith stomp down the steps, admiring the tightness of the taller man’s shorts.

Trott turned his gaze back to the stage and the next act. He was curious just where they planned on putting that hook.

Sips stretched his arms out across the back of the booth and frowned a little at the repeat action from the last show. Suspensions bored him, all build up and no real action. Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Trott kissed Ross slowly, one hand on his neck. His fingers curled into the ring on Ross’ collar. Pulling back, he smiled slightly and raised his eyebrows. Ross grinned back and tilted his head up to be kissed again. Sips kept watching, much more interested in this than anything happening on the stage. Ross’ hand rubbed circles on Trott’s knee, sometimes brushing against Sips.

“Margarita.” Smith crowded back in on his other side. Their legs were touching from hip to knee, leather against bare skin. He glanced at the other two and smirked.

“Thank you, Smiffy.” Sips ignored the drink for a moment to put his arm back around Smith’s shoulders. **  
**

 

* * *

Sips lifted the glass out of Ross’ hand, not swayed by the disappointment in his bright blue eyes.

“No getting drunk, Ross.”

“I’m not drunk, you’re drunk.”

“No I’m not.” Sips wrinkled his nose. “But you’re getting there.”

“It’s a great place to be,” Ross said, flopping back and spreading his arms.

“Nah, I got somewhere better for us to be.” He pulled the dark haired man to his feet. “Come on you guys. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

“That sounded way more sexual than it should have,” Trott noted.

“Well, it was meant to.” Sips slung one arm around Ross and the other around Smith. “Trott, go tell that chick at the front to call my car round.”

“Can you really call it a car?”

“It’s totally a car.”

“It’s a fucking limo, Sips.”

“Still a car though.” He smacked Smith lightly on the shoulder. “Come on, get moving pretty boy.”

Trott shivered, goosebumps rising on his bare legs in the breezy night. The other men stumbled out the door just as the limo approached the curb. It was another of those weird things that he should have expected, he thought. He had the feeling this guy didn’t just run a dirt company. Trott had been in that office and there was no way Sipsco made the sort of money to keep Sips in limousines and fancy condos and expensive private fetish clubs. He sorely wanted to know what the real story was.

Inside the limo, Sips settled himself with Smith beside him. Ross and Trott took the seats on either side of the vehicle, facing sideways into the dimness washed with hazy streetlights. There were tiny gold running lights along the edge of the floor, making Trott think of airplanes.

“Ross, you like everything don’t you?”

“What are you getting at, Sips?”

“I mean, you enjoy it just as much topping Smith here as you do letting Trott top you, don’t you?” Lights brightened the interior as they passed a busy all night shopping center ringed with sodium lamps. He raised an eyebrow, taking in the flush in Ross’ cheeks and the way he looked to the side. “Come on, don’t be shy about it.”

“Well when you put it that way…” The dark haired man licked his lips and laughed a little nervously. “Yeah. It is pretty much like that.”

Sips snapped his fingers, looking quite pleased with himself.

“I knew it.” He turned to look at the other two.

“You know fucking what mate?” Smith said through clenched teeth. He had that slightly manic smile on again.

“We all know how much you like taking it Smith, that’s clear.” This time he didn’t let go when he yanked Smith closer by the collar. “You don’t even have to tell me.”

“Everyone knows that about him,” Trott laughed under his breath.

“And you, Trottimus, well you. You’re in charge. Man at the top, so to speak.”

Trott just shrugged at Sips and crossed his legs with a lazy air, one shoe dangling from his toes.

“Yeah, I see how it is.” Sips looked satisfied to have solved the puzzle. He dragged Smith off the seat, onto his knees in the back of the limo.

“What the hell Sips-” Surprised, Smith didn’t have time to stop himself before he was on the floor.

“Shh,” the older man said, putting one hand over his mouth. Smith’s eyes were wide and Trott just shrugged at him.

“Do what he says, Smith.”

“Yeah Smiffy,” Sips agreed. The collar and the harness gave him easy handholds to maneuver Smith so he was forced to kneel up between Sips’ legs. Smith leaned away and Sips pulled him back a little more forcefully up off his heels. His chest bumped against Sips’ knee. Ross watched, one hand at his face as if he was going to cover his eyes.

“Alright, Ross.” Sips switched gears smoothly, as if he wasn’t even paying attention to the fidgeting, restless man at his feet.

“Hmm?” It required an act of will to meet Sips’ eyes even in the half gloom of the car.

“So I’m going to need you to get down on your knees for me…” The limo bumped gently over something in the road and continued on its way.

“Ahh.” Ross swallowed and rubbed at his face.

“Just slide on down here with your buddy Smiffy.”

“Ross,” Trott said sharply when the dark haired man didn’t move. He twitched and cast a guilty glance at the man across from him.

“Thank you Trott.” Sips watched Ross edge himself across the seat and onto the plush flooring of the limo. “That’s it Ross, listen to your - what do they call you anyways?”

“Sir,” Trott said succinctly, a world of satisfaction in his voice.

“That’s nice, I like that. Simple.” Sips nodded. “So I had some ideas about what we should have them do.”

“It’s your party, Sips.” Trott smiled that lazy, sly smile from his place at the side seat.

“Just trying to be a good host, Trott.” Sips ran his fingers through Smith’s hair, pulling his head back. The auburn haired man raised his eyebrows, curiosity overcoming his annoyance.

“I’m thinking no hands, if you’re thinking what I’m thinking.”

“Great minds, and all that shit.”

They both laughed then. Trott uncrossed his legs and settled back in the seat with them spread wide, the dress riding up almost to his hips and exposing the red glimmer of the panties beneath.

“Well get over there Ross,” Sips gestured. “No hands, you heard the man.”

Trott curled a finger, beckoning. Ross swallowed and shuffled across the space between the seats. Behind his back he clasped his fingers around his wrist to hold his hands together.

“Good boy,” Trott whispered. Flushing, Ross knelt between Trott’s legs. Meanwhile Sips settled for manhandling Smith into the position he wanted him in, enjoying the little angry noises the taller man made when he pulled him by the harness or the collar.

“I’ll help you out with the zip, Smiffy but the rest is up to you.” Sips smiled down at him.

“You-”

“Shut up and suck my dick already.” The zipper hissed and Sips leaned forward to take Smith’s wrists in his hands and pin them to the edge of the seat. Smith refused to drop his eyes, tilting himself forward to lick the very tip of Sips’ hardening cock with a defiant look on his face. He twisted his wrists, but Sips’ grip was iron firm.

“That’s it Smiffy, you got the idea.”

To his right, Sips had a good view of Ross bent over, rubbing his face against the silky fabric of Trott’s panties. He had a hand in Ross’ short, spiky hair.

Smith leaned forward, lips stretching around Sips’ cock in a way the older man found infinitely appealing. He sighed at the warmth of Smith’s mouth, rolling his hips forward in pleasure.

A noise made him look over in time to see Ross pulling the panties down with his mouth to expose Trott’s erection. At the light the vehicle slowed and rolled to a stop. The lights of the street outside filtered through the smoked glass of the windows, picking out highlights from the shadows inside. Light illuminated the pale curve of Ross’ arms behind his back, and the just slightly darker skin of Trott’s thigh. Sips watched Ross scoot backwards as he pulled the undergarment all the way down Trott’s legs. The limo rolled forward and the lights slid away.

The sensation of Smith’s tongue circling the head of his cock drew his attention back to the man between his own legs.

“That’s it, show me what you’ve got Smiffy.”  Smith’s answering noise was lost as he pushed himself forward, trying to take Sips all the way down. It felt alarmingly large in his mouth as he tried to find the time to breathe.

Hands clasped behind his back, Ross was between Trott’s legs again. He licked Trott’s cock in long strokes, enjoying the way he uttered quiet little murmurs of pleasure each time.

Smith choked, a harsh sound as Sips thrust up and into his mouth. He tried to jerk his hands free again. Sips tutted disapprovingly. His fingers dug into the soft underside of Smith’s wrists.

“We already said no hands,” he reminded the auburn haired man. “All you get to use is your mouth. You know what you need to do.” The fierce glare Smith directed up at him made Sips smile.

“You should really try to be more like Ross there, he’s being very good from what I can tell.” Smith made a wrathful noise and Sips smiled wider.

“Do that again.”

Trott opened his eyes, dark with pleasure and took in the sight of Smith kneeling in front of Sips. Between his legs, Ross ran his tongue up the underside of his cock. With a sigh and a roll of his head, Trott took his head in his hands and guided Ross’ mouth down on his aching arousal. He watched Smith struggling to obey Sips’ cheerful, almost cruel directives.

“Come on Smiffy, I know you can fit more in that mouth of yours.” Smith kept trying to respond, his growls muffled by the cock in his mouth. Sips luxuriated in the sound, and kept pushing just a little more each time.

Ross was quieter between Trott’s legs, though his arms trembled as he struggled to keep his hands behind his back. Trott stroked his face, provoking a little whimper as his fingertips moved from his hair to the line of his jaw.

“Good boy,” he repeated, knowing how the words sent little spikes of desire into the dark haired man. “That’s it, Ross.” The absurd collar Sips gave him to wear jingled as he stretched his head back to enjoy the fluttering sensation pooling at the base of his spine. Ross’ lips slid over the head of his cock, and Trott exhaled sharply. That bright hot feeling grew in him, and he pushed down on Ross’ head, wanting the heat of his mouth all around him again.

Meanwhile Sips kept Smith off balance, pushing and pulling at him as he fucked Smith’s mouth. Smith could feel the soft carpet under his bare knees, the motion of the limo over the road, the press of Sips’ hands. He timed his breaths between Sips’ thrusts, the tip of his cock smacking the back of his throat.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Sips’ voice roughened. Smith did everything he could to speed it along, using his trapped hands for leverage to hasten his movements. The collar dug into his throat, a distracting sensation. He wanted to tear it off, but he still couldn’t slip his hands free.

Sips’ orgasm caught him off guard, bitter come filling his mouth and Smith swallowed reflexively. The taste startled him, unfamiliar. Over his head, Sips huffed out a breathy chuckle as he sank back into the seat. Smith pulled his hands back, half surprised when Sips let go easily. He wiped at his mouth and turned his head to see Ross still at it between Trott’s thighs. He’d seen that a hundred times before, but never quite like this - not with these clothes or in the back of a limo. He was painfully aware of how little his shorts did to conceal his own arousal.

“Aren’t they something?” Sips said quietly, one hand ruffling Smith’s messy hair. Unconsciously he leaned into the touch.

Trott gasped, edging closer and closer as Ross pressed his tongue flat against the underside of his cock. His fingers clamped down on the back of Ross’ neck.

“Oh god,” Trott groaned. He arched up, one bare foot lifting to push on Ross’ hip.

Ross made a soft sound as he pulled back just enough to make swallowing easier. He kept his head down though until Trott tugged on his hair. Then he pressed his face against his thigh, breathing heavily. Ross kissed him there before he released his wrist and slid off his knees.

 

* * *

“So really? Never?”

“I just don’t go in for costumes or the theatrics of it.” Trott was still wearing the dress, sitting in the middle of one of the big hideous sofas. The far wall of Sips’ living room was floor to ceiling glass, opening up to a view over the city center. The sky was almost purple with the reflected light of the towers and streets.

“Huh.”

“All in the head, Sips.”

“Well there is that. But it is a lot of fun when you’ve got stuff to play with.”

“I have enough,” Trott said in a mild voice. He turned his gaze on Smith. “They get noisy sometimes.”

“I bet they look good with gags on.”

“Yes they do,” Trott agreed. He let the red collar slide through his fingers, unfastening the buckle behind his neck. He examined the tag on it. “So, rather presumptuous to invite business acquaintances to this kind of thing without even asking.”

“I knew.” Sips picked up a glass from the bar.

“Did you?” Trott asked skeptically. He shook his hair out of his eyes.

“Look, you do this as long as I have and you just know. I mean, it is pretty obvious if you watch the three of you.” The older man laughed. “Anyone who’s ever been in this scene would recognize it.”

“Hmm.” Trott frowned.

“Not like, sexually. Well, everything Smith does is pretty sexual, but you know what I mean. The dynamic. The way they look to you, or how you look at them sometimes.” He gestured expansively and then seemed to remember he was still carrying an empty glass. Sips ducked into the fridge behind the bar.

On the sofa, Trott sighed and glanced at his companions. Smith sat on his right, still a bundle of restless energy. He swung his legs up and over Smith’s lap, propping himself up with his elbow on Ross’ legs.

Smith made to unfasten his own collar but Trott dug a heel into his leg and shook his head. The auburn haired man dropped his hand.

“I’m just curious how you-”

“If this is about to be a ‘back in my day’ story then stop right now.”

“No,” Sips shook his head as he dropped ice into his glass. “I mean yeah it was different when I was your age. No one would have let twenty something me run around with two boys at my heels.”

Trott’s lips quirked and he smoothed away his smile as Sips continued.

“Not that you seem to need a mentor in this. Business maybe. But I get that maybe you don’t know everything. I mean, for fuck’s sake Smiffy there.”

At that Trott did laugh aloud.

“Oh tell me this is all some prelude to a _business_ proposal,” he crowed.

“No.” Sips rolled his eyes. “Though we can talk business if you want, but that’s really not why I invited you out.”

Over Trott’s head Smith and Ross shared a glance. Both of them were still jangling, tense from the ride back. Smith just wanted something to drink to take the lingering aftertaste out of his mouth. Ross was trying not to react to Trott’s hand idly drumming on the inside of his thigh. He tilted his face down so he could hide it for a moment against Trott’s hair.

“It’s a package deal, like Hat Corp. All three.”

Sips settled into the sofa opposite them, toeing off his shoes.

“These guys though, they don’t know anything.”

“What are you-”

“Smith, be quiet for a minute.”

“I’ve been quiet for bloody ages,” the taller man muttered. Ross took his arm off Trott’s shoulder to reach for him then. His look was cautionary and Smith settled for letting his hands move restlessly on Trott’s calves.

“I’m just saying, Trott,” Sips continued as if they hadn’t been interrupted. “They could stand to at least know a little more, maybe have some discipline. So could you probably, I don’t know.”

“What are you offering then?”

“Information, some fun.”

“And what do you want?”

“Ahh,” Sips grinned. “Now we’re talking.”

“I might loan you their services, but they’re mine,” Trott emphasized.

“And what about you Trott? You got any services to loan?”

They stared at each other, a challenging silence settling over them.

“If you’re-”

“No, I just really want to know what it is you like to do.” Sips shrugged.

“What I like is to get what I want,” Trott said shortly. “Speaking of - drinks.”

“Help yourselves.” Sips gestured at the bar.

“Smith.” Trott pulled his legs back. “Find me a beer.”

“Thank god,” Smith said under his breath. “Ross?”

“Yeah.”

Sips watched Smith for a moment before turning back to resume the conversation.

“I might be old here, but seriously Trott you let these two get away with so much.”

“So?”

“I am going to say back in my day now, because really we used to have a lot more rules.”

“Sips, you’re not going to sit here and tell me you obeyed the rules are you?”

“Hah! Well no, I didn’t. But that’s not the point. The point is there are some things you should learn how to do if you’re going to keep doing your thing. Or people aren’t going to respect you the way you want them to.”

Trott frowned, fingers still tapping relentlessly on Ross’ thigh as he shifted back to a more upright position.

“Are we still talking about this, or are we talking about business now?”

“There’s a lot of crossover.” Sips shrugged. “You meet the same people in both places.”

Trott took the beer Smith offered and sat all the way up this time, feet on the floor.

“Sit with me?” Ross asked quietly, catching Smith’s eye. They settled down and knocked their bottles together. The nervous feeling was back, listening to Sips and Trott. Ross felt better with his arm around Smith’s waist, heads leaning together.

“Nice legs,” Ross whispered.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not.” Ross smiled and brushed his nose against Smith’s hair. “I kind of like the shorts.”

“Well next time mate you can wear them, and I’ll take the leather.” He shifted so he could rest one leg over Ross.

“What are you guys talking about?” Sips interrupted this time.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Smith said.

“I would actually.” The older man turned to Trott. “See, this is exactly the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

“Hmmm.” Trott frowned. “That’s just Smith though.”

“What I’m saying is you can train him to not be so obnoxious.”

“Whoa whoa, train me to do what now?”

“What if I like him the way he is?”

“Well, alright, if that’s what you’re into Trott.” Sips shrugged resignedly. “I’m just saying. He could be a lot better behaved.”

Smith snorted.

“I’m not interested in changing them.” His brown eyes rested on Ross and Smith. “That’s why I like them.”

“I like them too,” Sips agreed. “Smith is a loose cannon though, you have to admit. And Ross swears all the time, though really he isn’t so bad. It might be good sometimes though if you had a little more control over them.”

“That’s not...” Ross frowned.

Trott raised an eyebrow, looking at his companions. Smith rolled his eyes.

“Show me then,” he said decisively. “Show me how you’d get them to behave.”

Sips smiled and got up to set his glass back on the bar.

“Alright Trott. You want to see it done, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“Seriously?” Smith looked at him incredulously.

“This should be good.” Ross took a long drink of his beer.  

“Just Smith here, or both of them?”

“You going to charge me more to do both of them?”

“Nah, I’ll cut you a good deal.” Sips chuckled.

“How good a deal?”

Sips raised his hand, palm up and looked at Trott with that absent minded smile he used in business meetings. Trott stalled, lifting his beer.

“Alright,” he said finally. “Do it.”

“Do you have rules?”

“Don’t break them?” Trott said. “Nothing permanent. Nothing we can’t cover up come Monday morning.”

“I’d love to fuck him, but I need to know if that’s alright with you.”

“Holy shit,” Smith mouthed, looking at Ross. They snickered and toasted each other.

“Did you expect this to happen?” Ross whispered in Smith's ear.

“Nope,” the other man whispered back. “Definitely not this.”

Trott’s expression flickered between annoyance and uncertainty. He looked over at his companions.

“Smith, do you want to fuck Sips?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“Smith.”

“Yeah, sure, why not?”

“There you go,” Trott said decisively, turning back to Sips. “He’s game. It’s fine with me.“

“You really have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Trott looked skeptical, rolling his beer bottle from hand to hand.

“I would.” Sips shook his head. “It’s alright Trott, you’ll figure it out.” He offered his hand to Trott to shake.

“Better finish that fast,” Ross said, tilting his own beer up. “That man is going to destroy you.”

“Nah,” Smith grinned. But he set their bottles on the little end table anyway.

“Come here, Ross,” Sips said casually as he pulled off his jacket. Underneath he had a plain black t-shirt.

“Wait, what? I thought you were doing me.”

“Did I say I was going to fuck you, Smiffy?” Sips smiled at him.

“But you- Trott-”

“Technically I didn’t say anyone’s name,” Sips pointed out. “But if you want, you can help me take Ross’ clothes off.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Oh my god,” Ross muttered as he untangled himself from his frowning companion and stood.

“I thought you were all hot and bothered because you don’t like the way I behave.” Smith’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Oh I am, which is precisely why I’m rewarding Ross and not you Smiffy.”

That stopped him for a moment. Smith glared. Ross turned his head just enough to poke his tongue out at Smith quickly.

Trott watched this, amused and confused in equal measure.

“Though Smiffy, it would be nice if you’d reach over in that table and see if I left any lube in there.”

Smith opened his mouth to snap something back.

“Smith, don’t even say whatever you’re about to say,” Trott warned. Grumbling to himself, Smith reluctantly rifled through the drawers. Sips rose and leaned in close to Ross, catching his wrist in one hand.

“Going to be good for me?” he asked in a soft voice. His hand slid up his arm and over to the center of his chest.

“I’m always good,” Ross answered, suppressing his nervous smile. His eyes flicked to Trott, who nodded very slightly. Ross licked his lips and tried to calm himself.

“Nice. Smiffy, you find it?”

“Yeah, I got it right here.” He bounced the bottle in his hand.

Sips reached out, hooking his fingers into Smith’s harness once he was in range.

“So disrespectful, Smiffy.” He shook his head a bit sadly. “But I’m going to let you make it up to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Take Ross’ clothes off.”

“Mate I do that every day, it’s hardly-”

“Smiffy.” Sips yanked him off balance, up close. “Don’t argue with me. Just do it.” His voice was quiet, still steady and casual. Smith’s eyes widened a little and he tried to tilt his head back from being quite so close. It was a little unsettling, someone other Trott being in control of their situation. Sips took the lube out of his hand and patted him on the head.

He watched, arms folded, while Smith pulled the tight shirt over Ross’ head. The two shared a grin as Smith began to unfasten his pants, back on more familiar ground. They got tangled up on the boots, which Ross bent to tug off. Sips stopped him with a hand.

“No. Smiffy, you do that.”

Smith opened his mouth and then stopped again. He stared at Sips, who just smiled expectantly.

Ross stood there, naked except for the collar and half hard already. Smith knelt on the floor, boot in one hand as he smirked up at them.

“You ever spank them, Trott?”

“Yeah.”

“I bet Ross here loves that.” Sips ran his fingers down Ross’ back, enjoying the way it made the man shiver.

“That he does,” Trott agreed. Smith watched him from the corner of his eye, tossing the boots out of the way.

“What do you use?”

“Belt, usually.”

“Mmm, good sound. I like belts.”  Ross shuddered as a hand brushed over his stomach and around his hip. “What’s he sound like?”

“Lovely,” Trott answered. “He gets loud though.”

“I’m alright with loud.” Sips glanced down at Smith and ruffled his hair. “Look at you, being so good. I’ll give you something for that. Go grab those nipple clamps and you can put them back on Ross for me.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Ross groaned. Sips hushed him and unbuckled his belt, the sound of leather sliding on leather audible in the quiet room. He folded it in half and snapped it in his hands.

Smith’s delight was electric as Sips showed him again how to attach the clamps. Ross breathed out between clenched teeth.

“Don’t pull too hard on that now.”

Smith toyed with the chain, flicking it with his fingers.

 _“Fuck,”_ Ross hissed.

“You swear _all_ the time, Ross,” Sips said mildly. He glanced up at Trott, watching them intently.

Sips positioned Ross so he was bent over across the sofa with his arms resting on the back. Smith perched himself just out of the way, close enough he could still reach out and touch Ross.

“Alright, you count them off for me Ross. Ten.” Sips took a step to the side. The first blow startled Ross, harder than he was used to getting at first.

“One, shit,” he gasped.

“Oh no, no swearing. I start over every time you do that.”

Smith laughed, covering his mouth with one hand when Trott glared at him.

“Alright, alright,” Ross said shakily. He winced as the belt came down on his ass again, stinging. Definitely more than he expected. He made to it four before he cracked and hissed out a startled curse.

“Oh Ross, you can do better than that.” They began again and Ross leaned his head on his forearms. His shoulders tightened each time as he tensed and his toes curled into the carpet as he tried not to let his feet slide too far apart. It hurt, but it made him _want_ even more.

_“Si-shit!”_

“You just have to make it to ten, you can do it.” Sips repositioned himself, swinging the belt to come down with a loud crack. Ross moaned into his arm and started counting again. At seven he rocked a little when the belt landed at the very top of his thighs and it took a moment before he could choke the number out. Ross almost sobbed out the last three, the blows heavier than any of the others. Smith flinched at the sound of the leather striking his skin. The red lines burning in his pale skin made Smith ache in sympathy.

Sips dragged him upright, a hand on his arm just above the elbow. Ross shook his head, trying to clear it.

“Smith, take those clamps off for me.”

Trott swallowed his moan. His fingers dug into his knee, and he thought he might have to pick up that 'no swearing while counting' rule.

Smith unclipped the first clamp and Ross whimpered, his voice pitching up. Sips dropped the belt on the sofa as Smith pulled off the other clamp. Ross hissed as the older man pressed up against him from behind, leather rubbing against his welts. Sips looked across his shoulder at Smith.

“Give me those,” he said, holding out a hand for the clamps. “Now take your shirt off for me Smiffy.”

Getting the harness off was far easier than getting it on, and Smith unfastened the buckles quickly. He had the shirt halfway over his head before he realized what was coming next.

“Oh no, you’re _not_ -”

A hint of a smile crossed Ross’ face.

“Come on,” Sips demanded. “I know what you want, Smiffy.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Yeah, I do. And you’re not getting it unless you do what I tell you.”

Smith’s noise of vexation only increased Sips’ enjoyment of the moment. From the other sofa, Trott chuckled.

“I could just keep playing with Ross here, if you don’t want to…”

“You’re…”

“I’m what?” Sips rubbed his thumb over the head of Ross’ cock, half listening to the strangled sounds Ross tried to keep from uttering. “Tell me, Smiffy.”

“Such a bastard,” he said, dropping the shirt on the floor.

“You know what? Everything else too.”

Smith grimaced and peeled off the rest of his outfit to stand reluctantly naked, one knee on the sofa.

“Ross,” Sips said. “Put those clamps on Smith for me.”

Ross licked his lips and opened his eyes.

“Gladly.”

Smith inhaled, eyes on Ross now. He twitched, wavering between submitting and pulling back from his touch. But he didn’t move away when Ross stepped closer and ran his fingers over the bare skin of his chest.

“Fuck!” he swore as the clamp went on and Ross smirked. His second exclamation was just a furious sound. The pinch of the clamps rattled his nerves, digging into nipples far more sensitive than he would like to acknowledge. Ross knew, brushing his hand over the clamps to jostle them. The look Smith gave him was murderous.

“Alright Smiffy.” Sips pushed down on his shoulders, guiding him down to the floor. “I want to watch you blow Ross.”

With a last resentful glare at Ross, he took his cock into his mouth. His hand wrapped around the base and Smith licked his way around the head to tease him. Sips pulled the bottle of lube out of his pocket and poured some into his palm while he watched them. Ross moaned, a deep, needy sound. He pulled at Smith’s hair, fingers tightly wound in the wavy strands. But the sound Smith made was louder still when Sips knelt behind him to nudge his legs wide.

The first touch of slippery fingers on his stiffening cock and his ass made him jerk and stutter in his movements. One hand reached up blindly and Ross clasped him by the wrist to steady him. Sips spread his buttocks and worked his finger inside slowly. Before Smith could get too comfortable, he added a second. Smith’s knees skidded in the thick carpet and he gripped Ross’ hip. The chain pulled distractingly, swaying with his movements. Smith pushed his hips back, fucking himself onto Sips’ fingers and moaning around Ross' cock. Sips’ fingers slid and spread inside him.

“Don’t come yet, Ross.”

“Oh _fuck_ , Smith-” Ross glanced down, overwhelmed. He tried to hold himself back, Smith's fingers clutching at his forearm and his hip.

“That’s it, you’re doing great.” Sips replaced his fingers with his cock, pushing himself into Smith with slow movements. He smiled at the frantic whine Smith made as he tried to encourage Sips to just move more. The sensation of being filled and so still was too much between the both of them.

Ross sucked in a breath as Smith took him as far down as he could, his movements rougher than before as he tried to make _something_ happen. He could feel the teeth behind Smith’s lips, the tension in him as the heat of his tongue moved up and down his cock.

“Okay Ross, whenever you want.” His head jerked, pupils almost eclipsing his pale blue irises when he looked down at Sips. Ross nodded hastily and tipped his head down as he let himself go.

“I’m- _fuck, fuck,_ yes,” he groaned. Smith held onto him tightly as Ross’ hips bucked forward and he came in a rush of slurred obscenities. He sank down to the edge of the sofa and Smith fell forward onto his legs. Ross panted, running his hands over Smith's shoulders and concentrating on not just sliding all the way to the floor. Behind him, Sips hastened his movements and pulled Smith’s hips up higher. No longer muffled, Smith's moans were increasingly louder and wordless.

Trott watched in rapt fascination. Sips was still almost entirely dressed, not even out of breath and still seemingly perfectly in control. Smith shuddered, rocking into every thrust and Ross bent forward over his head, holding him by the shoulders. It took all his self control not to toss himself off then and there. Only the increasing desire to take Ross and Smith home and fuck them into the floor stopped him. Watching them on each other was one thing, but watching someone else touch them was entirely new for him. He had not expected it to turn him on this much, or to be so fascinated by Sips' effortless control.

“You want it now, Smiffy?” Sips grunted. “You going to come for me now, eh?” He slid one hand underneath Smith’s stomach, brushing his fingers over the other man’s cock. Smith pressed his face into Ross’ thigh, mouth open. Before he could even lift his head, his climax slammed through him. Gasping, eyes tightly shut, Smith clung to Ross' thighs. Come dripped through Sips’ fingers, running down his hand. He closed his eyes and finished with his own quiet sigh of release. His thrusts slowed and he held Smith tightly for another minute before pulling back.

Smith made a little inchoate sound as he climbed practically into Ross’ lap after Sips let him go. Carefully Ross removed the nipple clamps, murmuring soothing words as Smith fussed at the pain. Trott let out a breath and rubbed at his face. Sips adjusted himself, zipping up his pants and wiping off his hands on a discarded shirt.

“You should take them home before they fall asleep,” Sips said. “There’s a bathroom next to the closet, second door in the hall.” They looked at the other two men. Ross had his eyes closed, one hand absently petting Smith’s hair as he leaned back against the cushions. Smith’s head rested on his shoulder, his legs over Ross’ lap. Both knees were pink with friction burns. Gently, Sips unfastened the collars from their necks and dropped them on the sofa. His expression was amused as they hardly stirred, even when he ruffled their hair.

 

* * *

Sips called his car for them, insisting they accept the ride home given the late hour. Trott bullied the other two men into getting cleaned up and dressed, collecting everyone's ID from Sips and their stuff from the closet floor. It was at least easier to get them back into their own clothes. Trott adjusted himself in his jeans, wondering if he was going to be this painfully hard the entire way home.  

“Trott.”

“Yeah?”

“We’re going to have a long talk sometime this week. Just you and me.”

“About the bill?”

“That too. But some other stuff also.” Sips shook his hand and clapped him on the back, some of his workday business persona back.

By the elevator, Ross held Smith up and waited patiently. His tie was undone around his collar and he looked sleepy enough to pass out before they even made it back home. But he smiled when Trott caught his eye. Beside him, one arm over Ross’ shoulders, Smith yawned and pushed the elevator button repeatedly.

“Sure,” Trott agreed. He squashed the uneasy feeling he was going to owe Sips more than he bargained for after tonight.


End file.
